


Didactic Dinner

by Talianna_ (Talianna)



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: DailyAU, First Dates, Harry tries to teach Eggsy manners, Hartwin, M/M, Oblivious!Harry, basically me using prompts by DailyAU for Hartwin, both don't know it's a date, both want it to be a date, least favourite dish, oblivious!Eggsy, pining!Eggsy, pining!Harry, rated for language, unconsciously flirty!Eggsy, wants to teach him ungentlemanly stuff instead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 04:58:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6270481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talianna/pseuds/Talianna_
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><strong>“It’s our first date and you cooked my least favourite food ever but I bear through it because I like you way too much" AU</strong> by<em> wxld-dreams</em> from <em>DailyAU</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Didactic Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: no bad stuff here, safe for language and Mr Hart's very improper thoughts

 

 **“It’s our first date and you cooked my least favourite food ever but I bear through it because I like you way too much” AU** by  _wxld-dreams_ from  _DailyAU_

 

* * *

 

 

He climbed up the flight of stairs with a natural ease and that typical swagger of his, which never failed to make various heads turn. From experience, he knew that there was nothing as alluring as confidence, and if there was one thing that could never be associated with Harry Hart, it was a lack of poise. However, he  _did_ have to account for a lack of punctuality, albeit a fashionable one.

 

So when he knocked on the wooden door labelled with  _Unwin_ , it was only a few minutes after the preconcerted time.

 

Eggsy opened the door with a smirk, apron hugging his body as he let his eyes wander from his Oxfords up to his glasses slowly, appraisingly, and Harry revelled in it.

 

“You’re on time!” Was his rather lacking greeting - Harry wasn’t entirely sure whether Eggsy was being serious or sarcastic in his observation - which was compensated by the brilliance of his smile as he took his guest in. 

 

“Good evening to you, too, Eggsy.” Harry made a point of emphasizing the courtesy of a greeting, but was rewarded by an eye-roll. “I was under the impression we were to meet a few minutes ago.” He remarked, aware of the metaphorical ‘shot in the foot’ but curious as to why the young man had decided to start off their evening with this observation.

 

“Seven, precisely”, Eggsy said, motioning for Harry to enter his home, which he did with a nod. He raised the expensive bottle of wine he had brought as a gift and passed it to Eggsy, who inspected it quickly with an appreciative hum, before he continued with his earlier train of thought. “It’s your delay average.”

 

“Delay average?” Harry inquired, confused as he took off his coat and gave it to Eggsy along with his umbrella to put both away.

 

“Yeah, me and Merlin figured it out when you was on that mission in Prague”, Eggsy furthered then, leading him to the dining room and Harry couldn’t refrain from letting his gaze wander to his backside clad in those tight, Kingsman-issued trousers. Harry scolded himself immediately, forcing himself to concentrate on the words coming out of Eggsy’s sinful mouth instead of the way the fabric hugged his thighs and the apron strings swayed from left to right as he walked ahead, hypnotising him.

 

“Alright,  _Merlin_ figured it out, but  _I_  suggested it.” Harry was ripped out of his reveries as Eggsy turned his head around, fixing him with his knowing gaze and giving him that hellish smirk with a flash of teeth, and Harry was positively  _burning_. “It’s the average time you’re too late for meetings, dates, appointments.” He explained at last, making Harry raise his eyebrow; Eggsy’s words were so theoretical, so clinical, the exact opposite of his gaze and Harry’s own improper thoughts. Which was good. This meeting was all about theory and propriety. There was no room for indulgence and debauchery.

 

“Is that so?” Harry enquired at last and Eggsy looked at him with beaming eyes and a smirk tugging at his lips.

 

“Yeah... haven’t you wondered ‘bout the weird times meetings were scheduled since then?”

 

Now that Harry thought about it, there had been an awful lot of threes in the appointed times of meetings after his mission in Prague, like 11:53 or 18:23. But, to be fair, they worked in an agency where time was often of essence, so it had happened before that he had an exact and odd time to do something essential for the mission, and when it came to the point, he  _could_ be punctual. So no, he hadn’t noticed the times as anything distinctively peculiar.

 

“Well, Merlin’s ‘ad a bit of fun tellin’ you to come at odd times an’ then scoldin’ you for bein’ too late as always even though you was mostly on time.” Eggsy let out a laugh and Harry would’ve been annoyed if it wasn’t for the lack of malice in those green eyes that were filled instead with joy and warmth.

 

“I should make it a habit of coming 14 minutes later, then.” Harry concluded with a cheeky smirk of his own and Eggsy just grinned, motioning for Harry to sit down at the table that was equipped with plates and cutlery and various glasses, with candles in the middle and a little bouquet of flowers next to it; all of this quite classy and not over the top.

 

If this was a date, it would be perfect.

 

As it was, Eggsy had invited him into his new Kingsman-appointed house as soon as Harry returned from his latest mission, as a sort of house-warming, but rather than a party, they had opted for a dinner, which they could use for Harry to teach Eggsy a few table manners. So this wasn’t a date. This was a continuation of Eggsy’s training. And Harry did  _not_ feel a pang of regret at that thought. He did  _not_.

 

He was about to sit down and Eggsy - the ever perfect gentleman (in training) - pushed in his chair, inspiring a slight flush on his mentor’s cheekbones, which he pushed back expertly. Harry couldn’t recall the last time he was on the receiving side of such a gesture - or if there ever had been such a time. 

 

“Thank you, Eggsy.” He said - or murmured, rather - and Eggsy - that devilish boy -  _winked_ at him. Oh, he would be the death of him. 

 

“My pleasure.”

 

 It was difficult, but Harry suppressed the groan that was tickling his throat.

 

“So, what d’you wanna drink?” Eggsy asked as he lightened the candles, which then proceeded to bathe his face in the warmest embellishing glow. “I know you should start with a whet, but-”

 

“Nonsense. A pint of Guinness would be lovely, Eggsy.” Harry smiled at him and Eggsy hoped the dim light hid his blush as effectively as it enhanced Harry’s sharp, carved features. 

 

“Comin’ right up.” He grinned, turning to go into the kitchen and Harry found himself once again ogling his backside, as the younger man started to untie the apron strings with quick, clumsy fingers.

 

 Harry yearned to see Eggsy in nothing  _but_ that apron.

 

 He closed his eyes and let his head fall back, tapping his fingers against the armrest as he inhaled deeply, trying to suppress those primal thoughts about his host. It would do him no good to be as distracted by everything Eggsy did as he was now, when they were by themselves. 

 

Actually, he’d been distracted by Eggsy ever since he met him all those months ago right outside the police station.

 

 When Eggsy came out the door, Harry was more than happy to let him walk down the steps past him - and, frankly, unable to say anything for a second - the boy inspiring the worst fantasies even back then. Having watched the surveillance tape of Eggsy’s risqué backwards-driving at least twenty times did nothing to lessen his fascination with the boy. And when he had the chance to actually see him off-screen, well, Harry wasn’t one to deny himself a long look, more than grateful for the Kingsman-issued sunglasses that had hidden his longing gaze from the young man. 

 

But now, in these perfectly fitted trousers, with his white dress shirt all buttoned up and the sleeves rolled up all the way to his elbows, Eggsy looked even more sinful than in his typical baggy jeans and polo and Harry couldn’t decide whether this was a blessing or a curse.

 

Luckily - or maybe not - his inappropriate musings were interrupted by colourful curses coming from the kitchen, and Harry opened his eyes and sat up straight, about to stand up and find out what had Eggsy in such distress, when said host exited the kitchen with a crooked, self-conscious smirk that was just endearing. Especially paired with the bespoke suit jacket he had thrown on in the kitchen apparently, coloured in a deep, royal blue - the one Harry had him made before V-Day - he looked incredibly dashing. He brought over a bottle of Guinness and poured Harry his glass, he himself settling for Ale. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked after accepting the presented glass with a nod and a ‘thank you’, even though he knew it wasn’t exactly polite to point out any flaws or difficulties of the host, but helping him with whatever problem he had would at least steer his thoughts away from the gutter. 

 

“Um, no, it’s nothin’.” Eggsy shook his head quickly and Harry just raised an eyebrow.

 

“Are you certain?” Harry prompted.

 

“Yeah, bruv, no worries.”

 

Harry pursed his lips in distaste, the nickname bothering him ever since they first met. 

 

“Sorry.” Eggsy laughed, eyes twinkling, “Yes,  _Harry_. Everything’s fine.” He smirked as he emphasized every word and imitated a posh accent.

 

Harry couldn’t refrain from a scolding yet bemused headshake. “Quite. Cheers then.” He suggested, tipping the glass slightly towards the younger man and Eggsy followed suit with his bottle of ale.

 

“Yeah, cheers.”

 

Harry’s eyes never left Eggsy as he took a sip from his Guinness, the malty taste and it’s mixture of sweetness and bitterness a perfect symbol for this tortuously intimate yet professional almost-date with the man he’d been inappropriately fancying for months. He just hoped that at the end of all of this, he wouldn’t be left with a bitter aftertaste.

 

Eggsy didn’t drink as slowly and sophisticated as his mentor, he took gulps rather than sips, and though they weren’t as ungainly as when he was getting rat-arsed with his mates at the pub, it still wasn’t close to Harry’s gracefulness. 

 

And when a drop of ale escaped the corner of his mouth, it was the perfect opportunity to make a fool out of himself. And Eggsy Unwin was nothing if not a fool around Harry Hart.

 

He brushed the drop away with the back of his hand, overly aware of Harry’s berating eyes following his every movement, so it was really only Harry’s fault and the way he always distracted him that Eggsy blurted the first thing that came into his mind.

 

“Seems like you’ll ‘ave ta teach me how to swallow properly too, yeah?” He laughed, smirking at Harry who inhaled sharply, and then the reality of what he just said sunk in and made Eggsy splutter and blush furiously as he stammered, trying to explain himself.

 

Harry, on the other hand, was fighting down another groan, losing the battle with his own blush as it covered his cheeks, glad that Eggsy was so distracted that he didn’t realise how much this comment had actually affected his mentor.

 

As it was, Eggsy was scrambling for words, completely unaware of the tight grip around Harry’s glass and the wide-blown pupils he sported when he imagined how  _that_ lesson might go.

 

 “Um, fuck... I... I should probably... check... yeah, I should check on the food... you hungry?” Eggsy tried to change the topic desperately, of course unable to make them both forget the implications his last sentence had brought with it, but Harry decided to act the gentleman and forget it for now - though he was sure that question and the accompanying smirk would haunt his thoughts tonight when he was alone and nobody was there to witness how he came undone to the memory of a single sentence.

 

“I’m famished.” Harry admitted - even though it wasn’t exactly food that he was yearning for. He watched the colour rise in Eggsy’s cheeks as he excused himself, escaping to the kitchen. Harry sighed; seeing Eggsy in his suit with his signature smirk on his lips was bad enough, but seeing this usually smooth, confident man splutter and get flustered might just be the end of him.

 

Harry took another sip of his Guinness as he looked around the dining room – the furniture was quite similar to his, but where Harry’s walls were covered with collections of the most diverse kind, Eggsy’s were filled with photographs of his mother, Daisy, his friends. Curious, Harry pushed the chair back and stood up, walking across the dining room to the fireplace where he inspected a few pictures, a smile on his face as he saw young Eggsy with his friends, a picture of Michelle holding Daisy, the portrait of Lee in his uniform. He was just taking another sip of his beer as he saw a photograph he really didn’t expect in between the other ones. He choked on the drink, his eyes going wide as he took the frame off the mantle, inspecting it closer.

 

 Kingsman’s tradition of painted portraits of every Kingsman founder member had been spread to every Kingsman agent in general, but has later been outdated when digital photography was introduced to the people. The Kingsman agents were traditionally photographed in their bespoke suits with the dog they chose next to them.

 

 Harry brushed his thumb over the photograph of a younger version of him with Mr. Pickles by his side, a proud half-smile on his face and his head held high. Simultaneously, confusion and warmth spread through his body and mind; confusion as to where Eggsy had gotten this picture from in the first place, and warmth at the thought of Eggsy deeming this portrait important enough to frame it and put it in between the photographs of people he loved.

 

 “Alright, ‘ere you g- What’re you doin’?” Harry prided himself in the fact that he did _not_ jump when Eggsy interrupted his thoughts. Instead, he put the picture back where it was standing before, and turned around towards Eggsy, smiling pleasantly at the man who was holding a roasting tin between his oven glove-covered hands.

 

“Ah, nothing, I was just looking at the photographs.” He admitted, walking back over to the table as he watched the younger man. He still had a slight flush on his cheekbones, though that might as well be due to the heat of the oven. Harry wasn't so full of himself as to assume that a silly question directed at an old man like him could make Eggsy this embarrassed. Eggsy didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a meaningless slip of his tongue, _not_ a silly come-on.

 

“Oh, right, well”, Eggsy probably didn't know which photograph in particular Harry had regarded, so he dismissed the topic fairly quickly as he put the roasting tin on the table and then stood up straight, stretching out his arms to the sides before he smirked again. “Dinner’s served.”

 

Harry’s lips curled into a half-smile at his antics, truly doubting that he could ever make a proper gentleman out of Eggsy and quite glad about that. He never wanted Eggsy to lose this charm and wit to propriety and suaveness.

 

Harry sat down at the table again and chanced a look at their dinner, his expression frozen into place when he saw just what they were going to eat.

 

“Toad in the hole.” He commented, his lips stretched into a strained smile as he looked up at Eggsy, who was grinning proudly as he took off the mittens.

 

 “Yeah, ‘s my first time cookin’ it, ‘ope you’ll like it.” He admitted, taking Harry’s plate and filling it with the sausages and the Yorkshire pudding, then added onion gravy and mashed potatoes.

 

 “I’m sure it will be… dainty.” Harry suggested and gulped soundlessly, watching in horror as Eggsy filled his plate until there was room for nothing more than a single peppercorn. “Thank you.” He said and it was probably the most dishonest thank-you he had ever spoken.

 

Eggsy grabbed his own plate and Harry noticed with envy how Eggsy’s plate looked all but vacant in comparison to his after Eggsy had treated himself to his own helping. Of course, Harry didn’t comment on it, because that would be impolite and tonight was all about manners.

 

 “How come you opted for Toad in the hole if you never cooked it before?” Harry asked once Eggsy had settled down across from him, knowing that stalling was futile and he really couldn’t stave off eating dinner for too long, but he had to prepare himself mentally.  
  
 

 Eggsy grinned again, though this time a bit sheepishly and Harry was intrigued, leaning his wrists against the edge of the table instead of grabbing the cutlery as he waited expectantly.

 

 “I wasn’t sure what to do, ‘cause despite all the cookin’ shows me mum forces me to watch with ‘er I might as well know nothin’ ‘bout fine cuisine and what posh people like you eat. I didn’t really think you’d be up for fish ‘n chips.” He laughed and Harry would’ve shaken his head no, because _yes, Eggsy, I’d be totally up for fish and chips, let’s go to a chip-shop right now_ , but he couldn’t do that. Not after he saw Eggsy’s proud expression. “So I asked Merlin what you liked an’ yeah, ‘s about it.”

 

“ _Merlin_ told you to cook this?” Harry inquired and he could imagine the shit-eating grin their handler was sporting the minute Eggsy left after their conversation vividly.

 

 Harry’s revulsion to this specific dish stemmed from a mission a couple years back; Merlin had already been his handler and he had witnessed the whole debacle from the front row. It’s safe to say that ever since that day, Harry hadn’t touched Toad in the hole with a stick from a distance of 10 meters and he swore he would never come close to this dish again. Merlin was probably rubbing his hands together in delight in this exact moment. He knew about Harry’s infatuation with Eggsy and he knew that his manners were impeccable – he would never refuse to eat whatever Eggsy prepared for him. This was top-level payback for all the grenades he had thrown around like confetti on his mission in Prague, he supposed.

 

 “Yeah, he said‘s your favourite dish.” Eggsy nodded, although his gaze said enough – he obviously didn’t agree but wouldn’t argue.

 

 “I suppose he would.” Harry sighed and put on a smile when he grabbed the silverware and the serviette lying underneath, ready to ‘dig in’ as Eggsy would probably put it, before another question popped into his head and shot out of his mouth before he could contain himself. “Why did you ask him, anyway?”

 

 When Eggsy gulped and blushed again, Harry’s interest was piqued once more and he perked up his ears. How could this question possibly make him blush? Or wasn’t it in fact the question that invoked such a reaction – but rather the reasoning behind his answer? Harry was more than curious to hear it.

 

 “Um… I jus’ wanted to do somethin’ you liked. Thought he’d know best, what with you two knowin’ each other fo’ so long.” Eggsy admitted, grabbing his ale and gulping it down as if he could swallow his words again.

 

 “Why go through all of this trouble, though? Fish and Chips would have definitely been an easier route; after all a lesson on table manners can be taught over any dish.” Harry remarked and noticed immediately how Eggsy’s eyes turned a bit harder when Harry failed to recognize how important it had been for Eggsy to cook something Harry liked – his favourite dish, precisely. The nervy curve of his eyebrows relaxed immediately and the enticing flush retreated from his cheeks as a defiant look entered his eyes.

 

“Jus’ a lesson, right.” He murmured and then cleared his throat. “Go on then, how much did I mess up already?”

 

 Harry considered Eggsy attentively, if not a little confused. The quick transition from abashed and nervous to, dare he say, almost frigid as Eggsy inquired with a deprecating smile left Harry quite uneasy and with a heavy feeling in his gut.

 

Still, he cleared his throat and started the lesson as though he hadn’t noticed the shift in Eggsy’s demeanour. “Not as much as you might think, in fact. You helped me with my coat and pushed in my chair, asked what I’d like to drink and poured me a glass, which is the proper thing to do as host. You had a little mishap in the kitchen”, Harry noted with a warm smirk. “But you didn’t admit to it, which is also quite important. You should never let your guests know if something’s not quite right.”

 

 Eggsy listened to his words attentively, slightly placated by the praise he received, if only implied.

 

 Harry continued, feeling a bit calmer now that Eggsy’s gaze didn’t hold as much bite as it did before. “When a dinner is served in the ‘serving style’ and the host fills the plates, he shouldn’t be too sparse or too indulgent and should always serve out equal portions”, Harry remarked then, glad that he was in fact able to stave off eating for a while longer.

 

 “Now when everybody is served, you take the serviette and place it on your lap.” Harry took his own and draped it over his legs, Eggsy following suit. “In Britain, and Europe in general, it is customary to eat in the Continental style, the fork in your left and the knife in your right hand – or the other way around, if you’re left-handed. It is also customary to not switch the fork from left to right hand, as is seen in parts of America. It is, after all, quite inefficient.”

 

 Harry continued with a couple of pointers and directions, successfully delaying the actual dinner, but the dread of what was soon to come grew in the pit of his stomach and seemed to expand into his lungs as he tried to swallow the bitter taste down. To his relief, Eggsy asked a couple of questions now and then, unknowingly saving Harry some more minutes. Harry was aware that his thoughts were ridiculous – it was just a dinner, and it was just a dish; it was quite frankly childish and immature to fuss and fret so much. Still he was grateful that Eggsy was so talkative; he never missed the chance to note how ridiculous some things sounded and Harry was sure that he’d never before seen him roll his eyes quite as often in such a short span of time as today – not even while he was on a mission in Chile and Merlin chastised him through the comm from the first second he stepped a foot in the country.

 

But, as Harry had already feared, the explaining and teaching part of the dinner was slowly coming to an end and Harry found himself once again lifting the cutlery.

 

 “Bon appétit.” He murmured, hoping that Eggsy didn’t notice the sarcastic twinge to his voice as he spoke the words as if they were a farewell.

 

 Harry might have been a gentleman spy, one of the best Kingsman agents as many would say and he would only ever think, because self-praise is a disgrace and unbecoming, but he seriously doubted that he was able to put on a convincing show, and in front of Eggsy at that.

 

 “Cheers.” Eggsy answered and was possibly just as slow as Harry when it actually came to eating. Harry took a deep breath and stabbed the sausage with his fork, the knife slicing though the meat efficiently before he brought it to his lips and after one last gulp, he pushed it into his mouth, making quick work on it as he chewed rapidly, but not quickly enough to make it look suspicious. He gulped it down and gave Eggsy an appreciative smile before he chased the sausage with mashed potatoes to get rid of the taste.

 

They continued to eat in moderate silence, Harry fighting down every bite and mentally putting together a scheme to get his revenge on Merlin, because a dozen grenades did not warrant this torture.

 

“You know”, Eggsy said after he took a sip of his ale some time later, his plate almost empty while Harry was at least halfway done. “For someone who ‘as his favourite dish before ‘im you don’t look exactly thrilled.”

 

 And the way he said it wasn’t even accusing, it was rather curious and confused, especially with the slight sideways tilt of his head and the furled eyebrows; he looked so unsure.

 

 “Eggsy-“

 

But Eggsy didn’t let him get a word in edgeways. “If I messed it up jus’ say it, alright? I mean I know I ain’t some great cook or nothin’ an’ you’re used to better cookin’ but you coulda jus’ told me an’-“

 

 “Eggsy.” Harry demanded, interrupting the younger man quite sharply and urgently as he put his silverware down, fixing him with his gaze and Eggsy became quiet. “It _isn’t_ you, it’s-“

 

  Eggsy actually barked out a laugh, albeit not an amused one. “Oh come on, Harry! First date an’ you’re already startin’ with the whole “it ain’t you, it’s me” bullshit? A bit rank, innit?”

 

 “Merlin.” Was the only thing Eggsy received and he furrowed his brows again, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms. Had Harry already mentioned how tempting it looked when the rich fabric of his suit hugged his defined arms? Because it did. And Harry was tempted. Quite so.

 

 “What?” And Harry could barely refrain from breathing back a _What?_ when he thought that Eggsy had somehow noticed or heard his improper thoughts. As it was, Eggsy was more than a little bit confused and obviously oblivious to the appreciative gaze that travelled over his arms and chest.

 

 Harry sighed, deciding to explain everything rather than having Eggsy be hurt or offended. Also, once he told him, they could both work out a revenge plan on their handler; he was sure that Eggsy wouldn’t be the slightest bit opposed to that idea. _And_  Harry wouldn’t have to finish this dish. Both quite considerable benefits.  

 

 “It isn’t _you_ and it isn’t _me_ , Eggsy. It’s Merlin.” Harry started and watched the confusion overtake Eggsy’s features entirely; the man squinted his eyes and raised one brow, shaking his head slightly.

 

 “What’s he got to do with any o’ this?”

 

 “Oh, more than enough, I assure you.” Harry took a sip of his Guinness, raising the serviette from his lap and patting his lips dry, before he leaned back himself, never letting Eggsy out of his sight. “If I am to be completely honest with you, I might be somewhat at fault myself. Do you remember my mission in Prague?”

 

 Harry of course knew that Eggsy remembered it, but he still wanted to ask.

 

As presumed, Eggsy nodded. “Yeah, the mission where you was too late for the change o’ guards and almost blew up that castle. Is when we came up with the whole delay thing.”

 

 “Right”, Harry nodded, his lips twitching at the memory of the explosions and Merlin’s furious shouting through the comm.

 

 “Merlin said you muted him an’ he wanted to get payback.” Eggsy added, his own lips stretching into a smirk when he remembered the anger that was luckily not directed at him.

 

 “Well, he tends to get unbearable when he is pissed off and I wanted to keep my hearing, thank you very much.” He watched with delight as a spark of mischief entered Eggsy’s eyes, but the confusion remained. Harry sighed. “It would seem as though he got his payback, in the end. A couple of years back he was my handler on a mission in Batley and, without going into great detail, it ended in quite the spectacle after which I promised to never come close to Toad in the hole again. He knew, of course, has teased me about it mercilessly, but I never thought he would go as far as to pull you into this and set us up. He knew that I could never say no to you and would eat whatever you cook, so it was really the perfect opportunity when you asked him about what to prepare.”

 

 Harry sighed again, actually impressed how well it all had panned out for his friend – and traitor – but mostly annoyed that this has put such a shadow over their date. Well, didactic dinner.

 

 Wait a second...

 

 “Did you just say first date?”

 

 “So you actually hate this food?”

 

 They both spoke simultaneously and Harry watched the colour rise on Eggsy’s cheeks again at his question and Harry decided to let it rest for now – they had to sort the issue with the food out first, then they could get  to the more interesting part of this conversation.

 

 “I don’t _hate_ it per se. I just really don’t appreciate this particular British dish, hence my stalling.” He was downplaying his sentiments regarding this dish, obviously, but he didn't want to sound too picky. 

 

 “Yeah, I noticed. You was really not thrilled, innit?” Eggsy asked cheekily, his grin showing a bit of teeth, his cheeks still flushed.

 

 “You didn’t seem to be particularly eager to eat it either. Did you really believe I missed how you barely had half the size of my portion?” Harry inquired, raising his eyebrow in mock disbelief. Eggsy gulped, scratching his neck, still grinning.

 

 “Always thought it tasted a bit shit, if you ask me. Wondered how that could be your favourite dish, you get me? But since Merlin told me I believed him. That prick.” Eggsy laughed, shaking his head then gulping down the rest of his ale.

 

 “Quite.” Harry agreed, smirking as the offended tension left Eggsy’s shoulders and he relaxed again. Part one of this conversation finished, now on to the second part. He could only assume that a resembling tension would soon stiffen his body, but Harry _needed_ his answer. For educational purposes, of course. “Speaking of, what was it that you were saying about a first date?” He asked, elbow propped up on the armrest, finger slowly tracing his lower lip as he watched Eggsy intently. 

 

 Eggsy choked on the ale slightly, blushing once again and Harry was enraptured.

 

 “I don’t know what you on about, bruv.” He retorted, his eyes resting on something to the left side of Harry’s head and Harry smirked. Two could play the game.

 

 “Really? Well, I must have misunderstood the candles, flowers and this suit, then, Galahad. My apologies.”

 

 Eggsy flinched and Harry’s smirk widened as he tilted his head down to hide it, pretending to adjust his cufflinks. He knew how Eggsy hated when Harry called him Galahad – just as much as Harry despised to be called _bruv_ by Eggsy.

 

 Eggsy crossed his arms in front of his chest again and Harry watched from beneath his lashes, almost groaning. Did Eggsy have any idea what he was doing to him?

 

 “Wasn’t me who said this was jus’ a lesson earlier.” He huffed out sulkily and Harry raised his head, not even trying to hide the intensity of his gaze now and watching with satisfaction as Eggsy blushed again. So Eggsy _had_ wanted this to be a date. How fortunate.

 

 “Strictly speaking, you were indeed the one to say these exact words, if I remember correctly.” He did. And he remembered the stony expression on Eggsy’s face afterwards. Knowing that Eggsy had actually wanted this to be a date, albeit he didn’t outwardly admit to it just yet, Harry could understand his reaction now.

 

 “Yeah, alright”, Eggsy huffed again, changing the topic quickly. “What’d you even mean ‘bout this suit?”

 

 Harry’s grin was something Eggsy never knew he needed until it made him freeze and just _stare_ because _holy shit_ , was this hot.

 

 “Eggsy, you can’t make me believe for a second that you don’t know how ravishing you look in the suit that I had you made.” 

 

 Eggsy gulped, his heart in his throat as he straightened on his seat, the tone of Harry’s voice so beguiling that it sent shivers down his spine.

 

 “And the way you cross your arms in front of your chest.” Harry’s eyes followed the lines of Eggsy’s suit and eyed the white material of his dress shirt as it moved with Eggsy’s heavy breathing. “I believe there is only one thing in which you could look even more dashing.”

 

 He remarked with a voice suddenly so calm and proper as he sipped his Guinness that Eggsy could do nothing but breathe a quiet “What?”.

 

 Harry’s smirk returned for a second and Eggsy would have missed it if he didn't stare at the man so closely.

 

 “Your apron.” Harry said finally, his elbow propped up on the arm rest, his hand holding the glass to his lips as he watched Eggsy intently. “ _Only_ your apron.”

 

 Eggsy gulped, his eyes glazing over at the thought of Harry's imagination going _there_ and even though flirting was second nature to Eggsy, he could do nothing but stare at this man, his mentor and friend that he'd been inappropriately crushing on for months as he spoke words that invoked images so vivid in his mind that Eggsy's throat ran dry.

 

 "Now Eggsy, since this isn't a date but a didactic dinner", he continued, his gaze devouring the young man in front of him as he fought down the smirk that was tugging on the corners of his mouth. "What were you saying again about me teaching you how to swallow properly?"


End file.
